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3ENTINEL: THE SENTINEL. i 7 "" ADVERTISlirO .RATES : ; Square, Brarler.iMk XteftmO, sitees. One square ooa moatk Ste OneaqaaraatzBtoartka....... , ' !o Two squares c year...... ......... ls.M One colnam y laaartioau .. . ls.oo OMCotanariz Baontfaa. WW OMeohanoM year. 10 .00 On qnarter ootarna three months . 10.no Obs naif ootema six months. 36.00 Administrators' Notioe, eaahftS.SO, credit 4.00 Estrsy ",.,. S.0O, " 4.09 llnal Bettloment " " V - 6.M tMSEE AND PUBLISHES, A A ... MISSOURI. or snSGXITTXOH :, " WHERE LIBERTY DWELLS THERE IS MY COUNTRY." -ith the SENTIXEL is a good i"rri kiria of Jos Piwiao can be VOL. VII. JS tjrle EDINA, KNOX COUNTY, MISSOURI, THURSDAY, MAY 21, 1874. NO. 5. i 3 IN BUSINESS CARDS. 5ss7oTD. JONES, Sentinel Office, Edina, Mo J. m prompt atteation to all leg! business kilU care. "7C. HOLLISTER, Soolbof Public Square, Edina, Mo &t ! various Co Judicial Dutnct in the various Courts in the Fourth vmo-iy w li- McOUOID. ilTORNEY AT LAW,: Of ia COOn uouse, r.uio, au. wompt attention to legal business v3nM -rT DR. C. O'BRIEN, jjISIdAN AND SURGEON, Edinvv, Mo. (Wittention given to chronic diseases, and Std women and children. it residence North Main Street. -deTa. c. woodward, yd o( Iowa, has permanently located in Sdlna, Mo. .ffl mke the treatment of Chronic Dis- Ktu Sore Eyes, iiheiimatim. Female 2 c, asiieciulty. He has h- d an expe-Urtrf'bout thirfv years therein . 1873. oat door north of Henry Werner's Drug vKn'28-ly A. P. WHITE, M. D., pbyaiolAxa. c5 Surgoon, EDINA, MISSOUBI. oyti'a professional services to the citizens rfUiMiaaticinttr. Particular attention paid JjBJwy. V4ne9-ly STH MISSOURI HOTEL. D. DAUGIIERTV, Proprietor. KIRKSVILI.K, MO. F. B. WILLIAMS, fflRACTOR & BUILDER, fffleootract fur the erection of all classes of idliw,F. 15. Williams, Klina, Mo. vCn33 TREMOXT HO USE, A LOUIS MILLER, Proprietor. Qixlaxoy. HI. J. P. II A 31 PT OX, LUTVi htr; re. C4XTOX, MO. lm constantly on hand all kinds of Lumler, tads, Uth, tearing, Itarnsidiug, Weather-hmliag, which be will sell at low figures. 1 1. iillis, t 1 1 roeo. s I. MILLER. . New Haven, Conn. E.3L JIILLER & CO., MAGE MANUFACTURERS, W JM Maine St., 16, 1H. 20 A 26tb, Ma Street, bet. Maine and Jersey. Cawistly on hand, Coaches, Family Itocka-wvrteUms, I'rlnee Alberts, Cabrioles, I'ony nw. Standing Ti l'h:rtons. Charioteer, "l'ttlng Top Uox Urarieg, frk I'hse-ad Toil, side and Knd Spring But-a W irfles, Sulkies, Skeleton WagoHS, Kx-5,f0'". llackd, Omnibuses and Hearses. mm of Carriage Material on hand for sale OCCIDENTAL HOTEL; M T.J. KOGERo, Proprietor, aHiire Street, between 6th and 7th, QTnivrcrg'. Hiii. Henke, Grimm & Co , "tKHIEE STREET PLANING MILL. QcubOx9 ..Comer Hampshire & Uth Streets, ' ::hjixcy, ILL Flooring, Ceiling, Siding, Shelving, jJJJ. van Boxes, Sash, Doors, Door and lZL b m''8' Window Tllinds, Shutters, S;"008 and Plctur Frame Mouldings, iJ,eadein a superior manner and at arZ-u w wonld specially direct attention jwBachinery, which enables us to do Stwinsr. Circular Work, Sticking ' fc r rinml.r Cool. Mswtag Blind Slats and dressing them at Srri Allberldwoo,ln',nadetowhole- I plPy! BEN J. RAWtK. Lw. Notary Public. -, UXVILLE .: nmwv fttate and Collecting Agency; 5rf."ion win KTen to the exam tttention will be given to theexam-Vs?t-ii ' Preparation of abstracts of the payment of Taxes. ... JJJJtswiU be sold on favorable terms. wT,w25.be promptly made, and 1 etmiSSn,ir K'e8 of property, immediately made all by ' made, and in cases , remit-draft to 1 V3n2 VCO. SAVINGS BANK, flOO.OOO . orricBs: los.vcirhSfident- D)?t-kr-. .3t2T?i Tim DeposiU. CoUeo ifLf'wS. accessible points. Gold. 8il-ftiant 'Government, State and rtUe.bsagbt and sold at best rates. '"UcitKi t ranking business respeot-gour patrons we pledge the Wiri.1 SrUnt c- M- Campbell iTfJKd. M. Randolph, H. McGon- W. J. 8LAITGHTU L PARSONS & CO., iij3tpaotors. . ' WOX TO., vtsanrrpi JtotJ announcinir to tbe people 4, wfwnpl'ted our abstract of the HfcdiL.'naWed o examine titles, and aMtratto ail Real Estate situated .';"" r-avmable terms JT'npUed from the reeordi of iviiUi. yJ,on end Knox counties, and tiJtTl oomPleU abstract than any Comnty SaTlnga Bank. H. B. PARSONS A CO. AT THE BRIDAL. BT HASBIXT PBXSCOTT 8POFT0BD. Wide stood the door, that morning, Of the somber and ancient church, And gayly the yellow sunshine Streamed on fta seldom search-Streamed over tbe rustling satins, Over jewel and waving plume. Over smiling and confident railants. Over women all beauty and bloom. And I paused to look at the pageant In the midst of tbe shimmer and stir, And to hear the priest murmur, Forsaking All others, cleave only to her. Fair twinkled the taper-set altar. And sweet blew the organ's breath, While the lover bent and repeated. To love and to cherish till death. The light from the great rose-window Came splendidly sifting down; On her face there fell a g.ory, And over her hair a crown ; And 1 knew by the awlul passion With which he stood white and wan That be cast bis heart before her For her feet to tread upon. But the bride was softly smiling, Lovesome and bright and fair He was but the ring on her finger. He was but the rose in her hair! And I would there bad been glamor Over my eyes, and a blur. At that eager vow or forsaking All others, and cleaving to her: For out of the pillared shadow I saw beside me start A wild-eyed girl, with her baby Clasped over her breaking heart, And down from the porch go flying The wreck of a rapture unblessed With only the river before her, With only the river for rest! Harper' 1 Magazine. DADDY DINKLE'S WARDS. ' " This notice appeared in the Mayrille Index one day, ever so many years ago : "Rev. Gustavus Dinklebach proposes to open in Mayville, January 1, a private school for boys. Particular attention enven to the classics and mathematics. Roys and young men will receive a careful and thorough training preparatory to entering college. Rev. Mr. Dinklebach respectfully solicits the Datronare of the citizens of Mayville and vicinity." In other words, it was an old-fashioned boys' academy, which Rev. Gustavus Dinklebach "opened." An old old-fashioned boys' academy, now all out of dale, and laughed to scorn by our new-fangled fellows who turn up their nones at Plato's Dialogues in the original, and claim that the only present and future hope for the world is that it shall be "evolved" out 01 the pattern of the crook of Herbert Spencer's little finger. itev. Gustavus Dinklebach wasn't that sort, bless his sweet, simple old heart. He read his Bible and the Greek trasredies. and believed the salvation of the world de pended on the srolden rule and hie. haee hoe. His religion and his learning were so mixed up that he could hardly tell which wan which at last, and he somehow got it into his queer old brain that one who was familiar with Greek and He brew and Latin lore, by that simple fact perforce was made a gentleman, and that it was henceforth incumbent on him to walk through the world as an example to modern degeneracy, loving lus neighbor as himself, being honest, gentle-mannered, kindly and dignified. Rev. Dinklebach was all that himself, and he knew no more of the ways of the wicked world than if he had been a spotted kitten chasing a spool of thread. He could read the Clouds of Aristophanes in Greek like a novel but he couldn't drive a nail to save his life. He came to Mayville a very learned, highly recommended man. witnatenuer Heart, a Dig Dam neau, tne soul of a little child, and but two pairs of stockings to his name. Mayville took him under its wing. He "opened " his boys' academy and presided over it for twenty-live years. It grew and flourished apace, and nobody in Mayville cheated Rev. Dinklebach out of all the money he got. It just happened so, as exactly the opposite had happened to him every place he hail been before. To this dav many and many abroad-shouldered, bearded man, with his own locks even beginning to frost a little, pauses a minute from the clashing din of the wide world, while he calls to mind the green days at 31ay ville, and remembers Daddy Dinkle and amo, amas, amat, with a smile, a tear and a blessing. Good friends, one and all, here's to the memory of the davs of our youth, which come but once ! Young trien Is, make the most of your youth, for it is glorious, and it comes Due once : Rev. Gustavus Dinklebach was an old baehelor, who loved little children. He called himself a dreary old bachelor, and a part of his valedictory to his biggest boys was always this : " 3Iv dear vounsr friends, don't vou be an old bachelor." I don't know how it was, but'before Rev. Gustavus Dinklebach had been in 3Iay ville a vear, every bod v fell into the habit of calling him Daddy Dinkle, and that although lie was an old bachelor. They called him that to his face, after awhile, and I'm sure they meant no disrespect, for everybody hau a sort of reverence for him, so good and so dignified he was, and so learned withal. Tney may have called him Daddy Dinkle on account of his voice, I don't know. He always spoke in a kind of sort, droning monotone, which wasn't a bit tiresome to listen to, I assure you upon my honor, but was very soothing and comforting, and I've noticed in this world that men who speak in that sort of soft humdrum are always apt to be nicKnameu uacuiy tnis or mat. uut 1 say I don't know why it is. When he first went to Mayville. Daddy Dinkle took up his lodging with a comely young Englishwoman, who had a big, stupid husband and a tnsky little Ameri can-bora baby girl, three months old, not yet named, on account 01 a uulerence of opinion between its father and mother. The mother wanted to name her daughter Frances Mary ; the father, on the other hand, insisted that the child should be called Hannah. Both agreed to leave the question to Daddy Dinkle for arbitration, and Daddy Dinkle named the bright little thing Theodora gift of God. During the year, the comely young Englishwoman's husband died. Daddy Dinkle still lived in the house of the widow. A few months after, the widow herself died, and left Daddy Dinkle alone in the house with a little baby. With her dying breath, the widow had committed the child to his care, and he had promised that never while he lived should the baby-girl be homeless and friendless. He promised all this, -at the same time that he had no more idea what he should do with the child than if she had been an elephant. But he promised, out ef the goodness of his heart. Alter tne iunenu, ne paiu an elderly spinstera stipulated sum for taking care of tne child, went to visit it twice a week, and always carried it a doll-baby ard a package of candy. This was his idea of infantSe femininity. f M Isfortiinpn never come sinfriv. Neither do blessings. Nearly at the game time another piece of drift came floating across the wide sea of humanity into the open arms of Dadd v Dinkle. The niece of drift was a boy. It was the orphan child of an old classmate or Gustavus Dinkle Dacn, also a preacher, who had died of consumption, and the poor father went across the river 01 death with lus eyes looklncr bacfr ward upon this world on account of the little boy he was leaving. JThere wasnt a soul on earth to stand between the boy and the orphan asylum but Daddy Dinkle Daddy Dinkle accepted fate and the two young ones. He took the children, Theo dora and little Ned Wallace, and set up housekeeping with the elderly spinster for nis nousenoiu goauess, her mother goin along to save propriety. These twocluldrcn were Daddy Diukle's warus. That's the bones of my story. Now it's ready to be commenced. Let us string the oones logeiner. A little girl sat on a green brook bank, idlv splashing with her bare feet in the crystal water. A boy stood beside her, en gaged in tie manly amusement of throw ing stones across the brook at a dogwood sapling, some ways off. He was trying to stone the bark off the dogwood. The girl had flashing, bright gray eyes, a wide, res- oiure uiuuiii, wane wem, anil tanned cheeks. She was a healthy, wholesome child, pleasant to look at, but not pretty. Oh! no. The boy, contrariwise, was a model of boyish beauty, like a golden-haired young god, or something of that sort. Everybody who saw the two young ones said what a pity the girl hadn't been tne Doy. " Boys can get on without beauty," said 3Iother Vaughn. "Girls can't. Boys good looks, she hasn't anything. What a pity lor the child. ' The children were quarreling. They were always quarreling. " Will you so home?" savs the sirl. - " Xo, 1 won't," says the boy. "Very well; then I don't go either," says Theo., settling herself more comfortably. " I'm as good as you, and I've as much right to run away as you have." " Girls can't run," says Master Ned, sen-tentiously." Can't!" says Miss Theo., sarcastically. " Didn't I beat you on a dead race the other day, and didn't Daddy Dinkle laugh at you well for it, and tell you I'd beaten you in the conjugations from 'amo' to 4au-dire,' I'd beaten you in the multiplication table, and now you were going to let me beat you running? Prettv boy, you! I wouldn't be a boy if I had to be as stupid as that." " I do know multiplication," says Ned. "How many are twelve times eleven, then?" Twelve times eleven had long been a stumbling-block to little miss, and, mindful of that, she now brought it up as a stunner for the race of boy. " I know, but I won't tell," said Ned, sullenly kicking a pebble into the brook. Theo. clapped her hands and laughed outright. "Oho, Master Ned! You know it, do you? If you can tell me how much twelve time eleven are, I will write your next Latin exercise for you." " Gammon," said Ned, giving the pebble a vicious kick. " I tell vou what, Missy, there's one thing a girl can't do. She can't be a sailor and go around the world, and that's what I'm going to do. I'd rather be a bailor than know how much ninety-nine times twelve is. Now I guess I've got 3'ou." " But you can't conjugate amo to save j-our life," said Theo., triumphantly. A warm, bright room. A young lady, with brilliant grej' eyes, a hrm mouth, dazzling white teeth and bright pink cheeks," sat on one side of the cheerful tire ; opposite her sat a slender, elegantly handsome young man, graceful as a picture, with curling black hair, and eyes that young women of sixteen adored because they were so naughty, roving, brigandish wickitl black eyes they were. People still said what a pity the boy wasn't the girl. Just opposite the bright fire, halfway between these two, an oldish man reclined in an easy chair. He had a big, bald head, and the expression of face of a baby. The young lady was Theodora, the young man was Ned Wallace, and the bald-headed man with the baby-face was Daddy Dinkle. It was Daddy Dinkle and his wards. Daddy Dinkle was lecturing them in his niil'd monotones. " My children, liberal lerrning will revolutionize the woi Id. The wisdom of the ancients, yoked with the inventive genius of the modern age, will draw the car of progress steadily onward, overturning in its tracks the barbarism of the past and the wickedness 01 the present. I have infinite faith in the ultimate elevation of the whole human race through the power ot liberal learning. I believe that the golden dream of the promised time is yet coming true in this world, when men and u omen shall be' gentle-mannered and honest, when no man will have need to ask, who is my neighbor and whoareiny brethren ? but every man shall be every man's brother. To the end of hastening this promised time, I have given my humble life and labors, refusing the emoluments which have more than once been offered me. Mine was a nobler task than to heap up money.' As my favorite Virgil so beautifully put it Majua opus ?noveo. " To this work, my dear children, looking forward with joy to the day when your two bright young intellects would take the grand task oft' my feeble old hands, I have trained vou. It has been the hone and dream of my later years, that you two children would one day take my school and continue it, training the future man, as I have tried to do, to read the classic and love God and his neighbor. Theo., my firl, I couldn't teach you embroidery, but taught you Latin. It is my belief that you can read Lathi with any professor in these loose and careless times. 1 couldn't teach you to make wax flowers, but I taught you liberal learning along with my boys, and I have discovered with joy that your inclinations and mine ran together, and you were ever the brightest pupil 1 bad. "But it is not good for man to be alone. I have been a dreary old bachelor through my life ; why, one now in her grave alone knows. De mortuia nil nisi bonum. We will not speak of that. But I, a dreary old bachelor, testify that a solitary life is not a good or a pleasant life. God never meant people to be old maids or old bachelors. My more than children, my two friends, who have made life less lonely for me, if, besides continuing my school for me, j-ou could find it in your hearts to walk through life together I tell you, next to my hope and faith that the promised time will come, it haf been my fondest earthly hope that before my eyes close on this world, they will look upon you two as husband and wife. Believe me, I know you better than you know yourselves, and no other man or woman can ever be to either of you what you can be to each other." He spoke with more than his usual mild energy as he concluded. Tbe girl blushed slightly, and cast down her eyes. The young man looked up first, with a flash ot his brigandish, wicked black eyes, at the placid face of Daddy Dinkle, and then, with another flash into the fire, he made an impatient movement of his arm, happily unnoticed by the peaceful old man, but by no means lost on the sensitive fciri. "Good night, my ch'ddren," said the gentle old man. " Think - about what I StfoVV . Then the old-fashioned old gentleman took ' his old-fashioned candlestick and trudged off to bed. The moment the doqr was softly closed behind him, Edward Wallace sprang to his feet with a look of extreme vexation. " Daddv Dinkle is a doosid old Don Quixote," he said. " What sort of a wea pon is a Greek root to fight the world with? I never said the conjugations in mv life that I didn't eret 'em tangled, and I don't know what the optatfve mood means to this day. And even if I had all the tarnation old rubbish at my finger-end, what use would it be to me? If the old gentleman had only seen fit to teach me botanv and anatomy." " I like Daddv Dinkle's way best," said Theo. 44 Oh, yes, it's well enough for girls to sit at home and learn rubbish. They take no Dart in the stirring, active life of the world. For them there are no worlds to conquer and measure, no boundless acres of marsh and forest to wrest from the hand of nature and make habitations for man: no secrets of the ages to drag into light, and force them to disclose the origin of the race and ot the world. Oh : my spirit quivers within me when I think ot it. and I long to be gone. It'll do for wo men to sit by the fire and drone over antiquated lore ; a more glorious career awaits a man the immeasurable field of action." Theo. tapped on the floor with her toes, and looked into the fire, but said nothing. The young man's eyes rested on her for a moment, and a look of slight pain mingled with annoyance came over his handsome face. He paced the floor for two or three minutes, as if he didn't know what to say next, and then, as if he had made up his mind, he stopped short and began : " I know you like me, Theo. hang it ! all the girls do, but I can't help it. 1 wish they wouldn't. I don't care for girls. I mean to spend my days in making explorations in unknown lands. That's the only life for me. Theo., I'm ashamed as a beast to mention it, but Billy Ray is dying for you. Billy's a blessed sight better fellow than I am." The foolish, handsome boy didn't know what he was saying, didn't know much ot the nature of girls, or he never would have blurted out that he knew Theo. had laid her silly, romantic girl's heart at his feet, and that he had no use for the gentle gift. Is was a brutal speech to make, and no girl alive would ever have forgiven him for it, especially when he went so far as to suggest the transfer of her maiden affections to somebody else. But Edward Wallace didn't know any better. He had no idea in his blessed innocence of the storm he was raising. Theo. stopped tapping with her feet, and sat like a stone woman. " Why don't you say something, Theo.?' She sprang up with a white face, and her ej'cs blazing. She stamped on the floor passionately. ".Ned Wallace, don't you ever speak to me again as long as vou live." He started in dismay. " I mean every word of it. If I live till I am ft hundred years old, I'll never forget nor forgive what you said to me just now. To tell me to my face that you know I am in love with you, and if it's just as convenient, you wish I'd make it somebody else. Oh, good God, it's too much !" She covered her face with her hands, her cheeks flaming with anger and bitter hu miliation. Edward Wallace made the sud den and uncomfortable discovery that he had hopelessly put his foot in it. He knew of old something of the temper he had aroused, and he stood appalled. " Iheodora," said he, with alaint sound of emotion in his voice, "you and I have been good chums all our lives. Once, when you were a little girl, I remember 3rou had a pet kitten which you liked verv much. One day you caught that kitten killing some young birds. You had liked her 1 Hitter than anything else in the world, yet vou took the pretty kitten and strangled her with your own hands, and from that day to this you have never alio wed another cat in the house. Arc you going to turn away from me to-night for good and all ?" " Yes," answered Theo., speaking very slowly, " for good and all. I can't get over things like other people. I don't want to. Alter to-night 1 shall never speak to 3rou again until l inrgive you, and that wilt never be on earth." "Then good -by,Theodora," answered he, speaking, unlike himself, very rapidly. I'm more sorry than 1 can tell that 1 ve offended you. Always remember that when you think of me, if you ever do. It you don't find me here in the morning) you will know why." So he turned and went away. I neodora covered her face with her hands, and burst into passionate tears the woman's weak refuge of tears. ext morning at breakfast Theo. came into the dining-room, and Daddy Dinkle handed her a note, and said : " Kead this to me, Theo. 1 found it on my plate just now." It was from Edward, and it said : Dcah Father Dinklbach I've started to Brazil. I could not do as you wanted. I know how ungrateful it seems, too, and 1 wish I could p'ease you, but I cannot. Forgive and forget me, if you can, and may tiod bless you and Theo. tDWARD WALLACE. Daddy Dinkle leaned his head on his tnds and groaned. It was a cruel blow. and it stunned him. A dim mist came over his eyes for a moment. When he looked up Theo. was crying in the corner. Poor girl ! She had learned to conjugate amo far too well. Daddy Dinkle looked at her. Perhaps it was "liberal learning" whieh made his intuitions so fine and quick. In that moment he looked down through the past like a vision, and his own blighted youth rose before him like a sorrowful host, lie went over to l heo. and laid has and gently on her head. " Theo., my girl, don't cry," he said. " I have no patience with crying women. Leave crying to babies, where it properly belongs. Please God, you and I have many brave days' work before us, my child. Together we will tread the glorious paths of learning. We will climb yet higher heights, my daughter, and you shall lead and I will follow. We will wait for the promised time together. In the pursuit of liberal learning there is perpetual triumph, unalloyed by a single pang, the splendid triumph of knowing and understanding. Knowledge places man on a level with the angels. There are joy, consolation and repose. I turned there for comfort, a long time ago, and it has never failed me. Theodora, daughter, gift of God to a lonely old man, come !" " I will, father." So two went out to work, where it was to have been three. They never mentioned the wanderer, never heard from him. The old man and the girl shared their studies together. At length an attack of sickness came upon Daddy Dinkle, and weakened him so that he was never quite the same again. After that Theo. heard part of the boys' lessons. "Liberal learning" brought her Joy and consolation indeed. She seemed quite happy, after a little time. Her eye was bright as a bird's, and her voice as sweet, hopeful and cheery. Year after year she studied with the old man, and year after year, she took more and more of the boys' lessons in her own hands. They called her the "girl-professor." and she laughed and went on in her own sunny, spirited, ambitious way, a steady, inspiration to her boys and" the old man. now beginning to be a little childish, and losing his eyesight a little. But her hair turned gray when she was nine teen rears old. A lover or two crossed her quiet life, as the years went on." That -was tbe only time her bright, sunny spirit ever seemed disturbed. - Her- soft, pink cheeks, had turned very pale, and she seemed faint and breathless for a moment, and then she had said mildly and firmly that her life was devoted to the old .Professor and the boys. ne never looned tor. or indeed never wished for, any other life than her present one. ao the flying years sail went on, and Theodora lived as much shut out of the world as if she and the old Professor and the boys ha been cast away on a green island in mid-ocean. A lnof fVtAM An tM A m OAWnAitrvii 1 1ni when Daddy Dinkle found himself ia total darkness. His worn-out eyes had failed him completely, except for tears, dear. stricken old man. Those rained down from his poor old eyes freely euough, but tears could not bring back the lost light ot day. And now Theodora took the o d Professor's tasks all on her brave two shoulders, and the Academy, for the culti vation of his liberal learning, flourished as hardly ever before. It was still carried on in Daddy Dinkle's name, but almost the only thing he did was to be led to his old- time chair in the morning, where he spread out his trembling hands softly and repeat ed the opening prayer, which he had not missed for twenty years, except during his illness. The Academy boys looked up to Theodora with perfect adoration. She was so wise, they thought, and learned, and yet so young and merry in her heart, and she could actually understand boys' games. The most unruly pupil she ever had sur rendered unconditionally when iheodora beat him playing checkers. She can play checkers," he said, in amazement.. " She is the first woman I ever saw in my life who could play checkers."Daddy Dinkle rubbed his hands with glee, and said : "II planned out a work for three people. and this girl does it all herself, better than three could have done." Still the wing-footed years glided on. and the young woman with gray hair kept 1 L - , 1 J! J 1 V , , uer scuooi, auu uiu uer quiet wont aim lived her quiet life bravely and well, until one day she found herself thirty years old. and Edward Wallace had been gone twelve years. Mie tied a riDDon in ner hair that day and looked in the glass and saw herself, a woman never handsome, and no longer very young. Not young in years, that is to say. In heart and spirit she was younger than most girls at eighteen. I suppose being so much with boys had made her so. She looked in the glass that day, and saw a woman with gray nair, ;oft fun ciiecKS auu ungiiL, ppiriu:u eyes, onv ooked happy and peaceful, as she smiled at her gray hair in the glass. She was happy and peacclul quite, quite happy. She still thought of Ned Wallace. I know that in her silent heart she thought of him fifty times a day, but thoughts of him no longer brought the bitter remembrances of old. All the burning pain and humili ation had passed away, and the lost love had become only a Deautilul memory, so, on her thirtieth birthday, she smiled at her nrrntr VinSr nnrl irpnt pYtrvrilxr ilnwn tn inin her boys. Daddy Dinkle's mind seemed failing him a little that year, lie was not always so cheerful and hopeful as formerly. He used to have fits of deep gloom sometimes strange in this sunny-hearted old man. One day he 6aid to Theo. : " l am cross and old, I heo., and the promised time isn't half as near at hand as it used to be. I wish Edward Wallace would come home." At length the gentle old man fell sick. He seemed to be slowly declining, and once when Theo. sat beside him he said : " Theodora, daughter, 1 think the prom ised time isn't so far off after all. I think I shall find it where I am going. The friends of my youth have all found it already. We love the next world better than this when our dear ones die, one by one, and we have a hope of meeting them there. I wish Edward Wallace would come home. Theo. went to Norton, one day, in the railway train. As she returned she observed a stranger sitting directly opposite her. He was looking at her with a gleaming, intense look. That was how she hap pened to see him. He was a large man, with heavy, dark beard, bronzed cheeks and eyes. Ah! Theodora's face turned white. She set her teeth together, drew a deep, shuddering breath, and looked out the window. The man's face turned pale, too, pale to his very brow, and he leaned his head suddenly lorward, as u dizzy. He tore the back of an old letter and scribbled a question on it. He touched Theo dora on the shoulder and gave it to her, looking steadily at her with his bright, intense eves. People thought she had dropped a letter and he had picked it up for tier. She read the question, looked full into the expectant face, with its bright, in tense eyes, and her lace turned wniter man before. She looked full into the bright eyes and deliberately shook her head. The stranger sat quietly down, i ne letter did not belong to her after all. The tram was crossing a railway bridge, stilted upon trestlework, half disjointed, hastily thrown together, and worm-eaten in some places. It was a fashionable American railway bridge. It seemed fearfully shaky to the stranger with the bright eyes and brown cheeks. A moment later every soul on that train would have thought the same thing, if he had any time for thought, which he hadn't. " There was a sudden noise ot splintering timbers. The bridge was going down beneath the weigh? of the train. It was a very high bridge. There was a deep ravine under it, full of dry, jagged rocks and fallen trees. The train was tilt ing over toward the side where Theo. sat. She had time to see that much. It was a nice situation. Theo. glanced wildly around for a moment, and then closed her eyes. Something caught her in a grasp like steel and whirled her madly around. She thought the car was turning over. An awful crash, which will ring forever in the ears of those who heard it, like the crack of doom. Wild shrieks of agony, appalling, fearful death-groans, insane screams of frenzy, mingled with the hissing of steam, and the sound of women screeching in that idiotic way which tries men's souls. Jr ivc persons Kineo outngnt, a little child mangled out of the shape of humanity, three more persons fatally wounded and ten more or less severely injured. They were all ready for the whitewashing committee. Oh ! yes, my friends ! Grand work for the whitewashing committee I Edward Wallace had caught Theo. in his arms just as the bridge went down. It was his last act 01 consciousness ior uayo. jj had hurled her away from the window, and turned so that he was next the side where she sat. - An old tree stump came bumping into the window. It struck him on the shoulder. As Theo. had been, it would have struck her head. She escaped with some broken glass cuts and a black and blue bruise on her arm. He had saved her life. His shoulder was dislocated, a rib or- two broken, and he was badly stunned and bruised about the head. That was all. - We are nearing the end of our story. " They took the poor, bruised ceeature home to Daddy Dinkle's own house. Theo. gave her school in charge of some of the older boys. "She told Daddy Dinkle that a stranger bad stved her lifts at the frisk of his own ; that he was sorely wound ed, perhaps unto death, and she had brought him home to be eared for. And she grew white with watching and sorrow... . -. . But one day Daddy Dinkle, through the open door, heard a voice faintly speaking in the next room. He had not walked without help for a month, yet he sprang upon his feet, quivering with excitement. " Theo.. you have lied to me ; you who never told me a falsehood before. It is no stranger I hear in there. It is my well-be loved son, who was dead and is alive again. iaKe me to mm." And he fell upon his neck and kissed him, and they wept together the weak old man and the weak young man. But Daddy Dinkle took to bis Ded next day, and did not leave it. A week later, when Edward Wallace, feeble yet, and no more man ame to wane, went to his bedside to take his blessing and bid him farewell, he clung to the tall man and wept. . "My son," he aried, "you will not leave me again! Alone in my helpless blindness I nave prayed daily and nightly tuai x iuigut not uepart uus me tiu i nearo your voice. You were a spirited lad, full of life, and wayward, sometimes, but I always loved you as the apple of my eye. Next to one other, it was tne crudest disappointment of my life when vou went away, on i my son, my boy I xou will not leave again ? You will stay with the loousn oiu man mi ne dies r " He reached out in his blindness and caught him, and clung to him with his trembling hands. Theodora sat beside his hQa. She turned her head away and wiped a tear from her eyes. "Father," at length Edward Wallace said, "how can I stay.? I have accom plished the career which was the dream of my boyhood. I have sailed the seas from Northern icebergs to the Southern Ocean. I have prospected for gold in Australia. and helped build a telegraph through a country where the foot of civilized man never trod before. I have climbed Mount Blanc, and blistered my feet in the sand under the equator. I nave sailed around the globe, and done all that I hoped for in my youth, only to find at last that Theo dora is more to mc than anatomy and botany ; more than travel and adventure ; more than all the world besides. Father, I have come five thousand miles to ask Theodora once in her life to forgive, and she will not. U she would bid me stay, father " The old man eroped honelesslv over the quilt with one hand. " X heo., give me your hand. 1 cannot find it myself," said the old man. She reached out. her hand, cold and trembling, and he to k it in his weak rrrocn linlliii v it tVnta lii Ann lor? onrl k1?!' JlVlUlll IV tUU4 MiR V1JV MIU HUM i Edward's hand in the other. He drew them feebly together, and laid the hand of Theo. in the hand of Edward. " My children, it is the last wish of the old man. Theo., my girl, shall it not be so?" She glanced at tha face of Edward Wal lace. He was looking at her with his beautiful eyes, all moist and tender, offering her once more, and for the last time, his heart, begging her to take the gift the neart oi a brave, strong, loving, eternally true man hers forever and ever. Such a love is God's blessed gift to woman. The world seemed turned around to her, and she closed her eyes dizzily. Iiaddy Dinkle listened painmily. "Theo.?" he said. " Yes, father, it shall be so." He smiled a pleasant, child-like smile, nodded his head faintly to show that he understood, and turned his blind eyes a little toward the light. Then his mind seemed to wander slightly. He thought he was back in school with his boys. 44 Turn to book fourth," he said, 4line Ckl. Vixi. et ouein ilederat eursum fortuna peregi I have lived and accomplished the race which late designed, ne loosened his hold on Theo.'s hand. and Edward Wallace closed his own fingers tighly over it and held it fast. Daddy Dinkle seemed to have fallen into a light slumber. His face was as beautiful and serene as the face of an infant in a happy dream. The old man was dead. Cincinnati Commercial. E W Canse of Mississippi Overflows. At a recent meeting of the Chicago Academy ot Science, ex-uovernor cross of that city read an elaborate paper on the subject of the Mississippi inundations, in which he argued that the overflows which are now devastating so large a portion of the finest cotton districts of Mississippi, Arkansas and Louisiana, and nearly all the choice susrar resrion of the latter State, find their explanation not in a larger volume of water than usual poured into the Lower Mississippi from its tributaries, but in the tact that the Ded oi tne river is grad ually rising, thus luting up its waters to a higher level, and causing them to flow over the banks and levees which once con fined them. In support of this view he declared that he had conversed with many intelligent and observant boatmen in St. Louis, who confidently averred that the bed of the river is gradually rising irom the deposit of sediment, just as the river Po, in Italy, whose overflows are more freauent and destructive than formerly, is lifting its bed from the same eause. This view of a very interesting subject is strengthened by circumstances attending the recent overflow. It is a noteworthy fact that this recent overflow was not caused nor accompanied by any unusual rise either in the Missouri or Upper Missis- at and below Cairo, chiefly from the Ohio Cumberland, Tennessee, White, Arkansas, and Red rivers ; and the flood in the Ohio lacked several feet of being as high as for mer years have witnessed. Had the great streams above Cairo, the Missouri and its tributaries, and the Upper Mississippi, with its affluents, participated in the rise, the lower river would have been raised several feet higher than it was a height that would have carried it probably, over nearly all the levees, and caused the inundation of all the lowlands bordering on it. That so great and destructive an overflow as that which took place should come from the comparatively limited volumes of water poured Into the river at and below Cairo, seems to suggest a decreased capacity of the river channel to contain its waters, owing to the elevation of the bed. If this theory be correct, some very interesting questions present themselves : How long is the process to go on ? What will be its ultimate effects? If the levees on its bank are to be built higher as its bed is raised, to secure the country from inundation, there will come a time when the mighty river will flow to the sea like an aqueduct, through channels lifted up above the plain. But there is a limit to the work of raising the levees; the higher they are built the weaker they become, and in a great flood, in which all the upper rivers shall participate, the levees would be carried away, and the released water would submerge the low regions in a far more destructive deluge than any we have yet wituessed. St. Louis Republican. . .- Chamfagsk Cake. 1 egg. 1 UP. sugar. J cupful of butter, f teaspoonful of soda, i teaspoonful ofcnni-tartar, 2 tabJe-spoonfuls oYsweet milk. 2 cupfuls of flour; to be seasoned with nutmeg. Geobgk Wrxso! of Adrian. Mich., has a colt three years old that prefers tobacco to oats, and exhibits great distress if it is not supplied every day with a certain quantity of fine-cut or plug. , . .PU9GE3T FAllAGllAPES. Host kinds of roots and barks are now used as medicines, except the cube root and the bark of a dog. , . . " A MATTXK-OF-FACT old gentleman thinks i t must be a very small base-ball that can be caught on a fly. . " A RKvoLvraa fragment of the paleozoic age collects no cryptogamous vegetation' is a new translation of a popular proverb. . It -is suggested that General Butler would make a good stage manager, because he always has a cast in his eye. . - . Mrs. Partikgton moved this spring to a house on the railroad, and she likes it very much. " It is so pleasant and sociable," she says, 44 when Ike is off, to see the cars forty times a day pass pro and con be fore the windows." ' - , A Kax cannot wait for his dinner with out losing his temper, bnt see with what angelic sweetness a woman bears the trial I Has the woman more patience ? - Not a bit only she has lunched, and the man has not. . . " Whilb a couple of women were discuss ing, the other day, the merits of a certain physician, one of them asked the other what kind of a doctor it was. "Sure, I . dunno," was the reply, " but I think it's an alpaca doctor they call him.' Wednesday afternoon a Brunswick man took a buckeye away from his boy, who was carrvinsr it for, "luck." and nunc it contemptuously out into the street. Ihen he went into tbe house and said : " Wife, it's the dark o' tne moon now let's plant them taters." A friend at our elbow says he thinks it just as reprehensible for women to get tin-h hv loiino- oa fnm man tn oof- tlfrVlt iw ''b aa v auvu& w m v fw O J whisky. Both injure the system. Well, it's none of our particular business any way. Men generally get tight cause its pleasant, and women get . tight corsets nice. Ohio State Journal. A Few years ago a hungry crowd sat down at the well-spread supper-table of a sound-steamer upon which one of the dishes contained a trout of moderate size. A serious-looking individual drew this dish toward him, saying, apologetically, "This is a fast-day with me." His next neighbor, an Irish gentleman, immediately inserted his forkInto the fish and transferred it to his own plate, remarking: "Sir, do you suppose nobody has a sow! to be saved but yourself?'. If there is one thing more than any other that will crush all the best impulses in a man's breast, that will drive all beauty from his mind, that will fill him with a de moniac desire to dabble his hands in nu-man sore and fling it around, as the laugh ing child sports with bunches of blood-red grapes it is to struggle through the heat of the sun. the dust of the street, the ri bald jeers of the heartless crowd, in order tn juiIaIi a Awttnltt f-ntn . Sk sfnlr tMTltln(P and exhausted upon the seat of the ca boose-car, and gradually regain consciousness while tne train switches and jams about the depot for two hours. A Moving Mishap. Mr. Drumme is a commercial traveler. and is away from home a good deal, and besides that he is so very mucn apsorrjeo in his business that his vt ife never expects any assistance from him in tbe management of household matters. When Mrs. Drumme determined to move she communicated her intention to her spouse,, and told him that she intended to go about it during his next period of rest from his journeying, and would depart from her usual custom uy asKuig nun w a.i Drumme declared his readiness, and was particular to note the date of his intended Hitting in his memorandum dook. lie then went to the store, packed his sample cases, learned two or three new funny stories to tell his customers, ana started out and was gone three weeks, scouting in Illinois and Kentucky. He returned on one of the late night trains and started home, thinking he would have a week's rest before the moving process began. He let himself in with a latch-key, and the first thing he noticed was the hollow sound of his heel on the hall floor. He proceeded, and on ' entering the sitting-room stumbled and fell into the midst of two or three shrieking women and babies, and before he could rise and explain, he fell a bed-slat collide with his head several times in quick succession before he lost consciousness. When he "came to," a large man had him in his arms, and a woman was holding a light and pouring water on his head. The man was saying : Bless my soul ! I hope he ain't lulled I It's Mr. Drumme!" The explanation Drumme's wife gave him was that the new house being ready a week earlier than was expected, she naa moved, but he failed to get the letterap-nrisina- him of the fact. As the gentle man who took the house bought the night-latch and door-bell, she did not remove them, and thus Mr. Drumme got into the house and tumbled right among tbe sleeping family, who were camping in thedining-room the first night ot their residence inhis late domicile. Evantvillc Journal. Huckleberries and Milk. Ten of us boys and girls go out over the hill, and come back with twenty quarts of huckleberries. We make our hasty ablutions at the well, wipe on a coarse towel, comb back our hair, and gather round a table where is a pan of milk and great loaves of bread and our berries washed and ice-cold. We crumb the bread, and mix the berries, and pour the milk, and put. great spoonfuls of the mixture into our mouths, and are very healthy and very fPIo not know that this life has on the whole any higher happiness than huckleberries and muk, eaten with the right sort of boys and girls. Pass on a few years, and somewhere, in a long, high, pillared, gilded, and frescoed eating and drinking, laughing and talking and enjoying themselves prodigiously ; Hut lovtnrv nn in Btrtn fnr rhpmselvns head aches to-morrow and uncertain appetites iur weens vu cuiuc ' With one consent we say that these men are gluttonous and bibulous. They are having a good time; they are enjoying each other's company; but their sapper costs too much; their appetites are too much stimulated; the wines reflavor-ous; the; various dishes are too highly 8eKewhere between these tenboysand girls rejoicing over huckleberries and milk, and those ten city lawyers and busi-nessmen rejoicing over a Delmonioo sup- i. lino at. mhich thi virtne of eatmsr . and drinking and giving -thanks lapsed jni a tne vice ui iuaiJuvaTura-w"s ,1JAt,!n In itTMfla ThPV H'tltt kttD Oil ' one side of the line are temperate and vir tuous. - . a nose wno pass i are intemperate and vicious. Thomat K. Buchcr. '-m.1 ' ' ' ' ' ' ' Y . t r .XavoH. Tnrl "hf.ntr - asked " to take a drink ' drtdlned, butsaid, if no objections were marie, he would hike a loaf of bread for his. The party wf a bakery, the treater oouant "-""V"-: of bread, had it done up. and hiJWa took it home. The loaf was afterwards sent to a needy family. - .J

3ENTINEL: THE SENTINEL. i 7 "" ADVERTISlirO .RATES : ; Square, Brarler.iMk XteftmO, sitees. One square ooa moatk Ste OneaqaaraatzBtoartka....... , ' !o Two squares c year...... ......... ls.M One colnam y laaartioau .. . ls.oo OMCotanariz Baontfaa. WW OMeohanoM year. 10 .00 On qnarter ootarna three months . 10.no Obs naif ootema six months. 36.00 Administrators' Notioe, eaahftS.SO, credit 4.00 Estrsy ",.,. S.0O, " 4.09 llnal Bettloment " " V - 6.M tMSEE AND PUBLISHES, A A ... MISSOURI. or snSGXITTXOH :, " WHERE LIBERTY DWELLS THERE IS MY COUNTRY." -ith the SENTIXEL is a good i"rri kiria of Jos Piwiao can be VOL. VII. JS tjrle EDINA, KNOX COUNTY, MISSOURI, THURSDAY, MAY 21, 1874. NO. 5. i 3 IN BUSINESS CARDS. 5ss7oTD. JONES, Sentinel Office, Edina, Mo J. m prompt atteation to all leg! business kilU care. "7C. HOLLISTER, Soolbof Public Square, Edina, Mo &t ! various Co Judicial Dutnct in the various Courts in the Fourth vmo-iy w li- McOUOID. ilTORNEY AT LAW,: Of ia COOn uouse, r.uio, au. wompt attention to legal business v3nM -rT DR. C. O'BRIEN, jjISIdAN AND SURGEON, Edinvv, Mo. (Wittention given to chronic diseases, and Std women and children. it residence North Main Street. -deTa. c. woodward, yd o( Iowa, has permanently located in Sdlna, Mo. .ffl mke the treatment of Chronic Dis- Ktu Sore Eyes, iiheiimatim. Female 2 c, asiieciulty. He has h- d an expe-Urtrf'bout thirfv years therein . 1873. oat door north of Henry Werner's Drug vKn'28-ly A. P. WHITE, M. D., pbyaiolAxa. c5 Surgoon, EDINA, MISSOUBI. oyti'a professional services to the citizens rfUiMiaaticinttr. Particular attention paid JjBJwy. V4ne9-ly STH MISSOURI HOTEL. D. DAUGIIERTV, Proprietor. KIRKSVILI.K, MO. F. B. WILLIAMS, fflRACTOR & BUILDER, fffleootract fur the erection of all classes of idliw,F. 15. Williams, Klina, Mo. vCn33 TREMOXT HO USE, A LOUIS MILLER, Proprietor. Qixlaxoy. HI. J. P. II A 31 PT OX, LUTVi htr; re. C4XTOX, MO. lm constantly on hand all kinds of Lumler, tads, Uth, tearing, Itarnsidiug, Weather-hmliag, which be will sell at low figures. 1 1. iillis, t 1 1 roeo. s I. MILLER. . New Haven, Conn. E.3L JIILLER & CO., MAGE MANUFACTURERS, W JM Maine St., 16, 1H. 20 A 26tb, Ma Street, bet. Maine and Jersey. Cawistly on hand, Coaches, Family Itocka-wvrteUms, I'rlnee Alberts, Cabrioles, I'ony nw. Standing Ti l'h:rtons. Charioteer, "l'ttlng Top Uox Urarieg, frk I'hse-ad Toil, side and Knd Spring But-a W irfles, Sulkies, Skeleton WagoHS, Kx-5,f0'". llackd, Omnibuses and Hearses. mm of Carriage Material on hand for sale OCCIDENTAL HOTEL; M T.J. KOGERo, Proprietor, aHiire Street, between 6th and 7th, QTnivrcrg'. Hiii. Henke, Grimm & Co , "tKHIEE STREET PLANING MILL. QcubOx9 ..Comer Hampshire & Uth Streets, ' ::hjixcy, ILL Flooring, Ceiling, Siding, Shelving, jJJJ. van Boxes, Sash, Doors, Door and lZL b m''8' Window Tllinds, Shutters, S;"008 and Plctur Frame Mouldings, iJ,eadein a superior manner and at arZ-u w wonld specially direct attention jwBachinery, which enables us to do Stwinsr. Circular Work, Sticking ' fc r rinml.r Cool. Mswtag Blind Slats and dressing them at Srri Allberldwoo,ln',nadetowhole- I plPy! BEN J. RAWtK. Lw. Notary Public. -, UXVILLE .: nmwv fttate and Collecting Agency; 5rf."ion win KTen to the exam tttention will be given to theexam-Vs?t-ii ' Preparation of abstracts of the payment of Taxes. ... JJJJtswiU be sold on favorable terms. wT,w25.be promptly made, and 1 etmiSSn,ir K'e8 of property, immediately made all by ' made, and in cases , remit-draft to 1 V3n2 VCO. SAVINGS BANK, flOO.OOO . orricBs: los.vcirhSfident- D)?t-kr-. .3t2T?i Tim DeposiU. CoUeo ifLf'wS. accessible points. Gold. 8il-ftiant 'Government, State and rtUe.bsagbt and sold at best rates. '"UcitKi t ranking business respeot-gour patrons we pledge the Wiri.1 SrUnt c- M- Campbell iTfJKd. M. Randolph, H. McGon- W. J. 8LAITGHTU L PARSONS & CO., iij3tpaotors. . ' WOX TO., vtsanrrpi JtotJ announcinir to tbe people 4, wfwnpl'ted our abstract of the HfcdiL.'naWed o examine titles, and aMtratto ail Real Estate situated .';"" r-avmable terms JT'npUed from the reeordi of iviiUi. yJ,on end Knox counties, and tiJtTl oomPleU abstract than any Comnty SaTlnga Bank. H. B. PARSONS A CO. AT THE BRIDAL. BT HASBIXT PBXSCOTT 8POFT0BD. Wide stood the door, that morning, Of the somber and ancient church, And gayly the yellow sunshine Streamed on fta seldom search-Streamed over tbe rustling satins, Over jewel and waving plume. Over smiling and confident railants. Over women all beauty and bloom. And I paused to look at the pageant In the midst of tbe shimmer and stir, And to hear the priest murmur, Forsaking All others, cleave only to her. Fair twinkled the taper-set altar. And sweet blew the organ's breath, While the lover bent and repeated. To love and to cherish till death. The light from the great rose-window Came splendidly sifting down; On her face there fell a g.ory, And over her hair a crown ; And 1 knew by the awlul passion With which he stood white and wan That be cast bis heart before her For her feet to tread upon. But the bride was softly smiling, Lovesome and bright and fair He was but the ring on her finger. He was but the rose in her hair! And I would there bad been glamor Over my eyes, and a blur. At that eager vow or forsaking All others, and cleaving to her: For out of the pillared shadow I saw beside me start A wild-eyed girl, with her baby Clasped over her breaking heart, And down from the porch go flying The wreck of a rapture unblessed With only the river before her, With only the river for rest! Harper' 1 Magazine. DADDY DINKLE'S WARDS. ' " This notice appeared in the Mayrille Index one day, ever so many years ago : "Rev. Gustavus Dinklebach proposes to open in Mayville, January 1, a private school for boys. Particular attention enven to the classics and mathematics. Roys and young men will receive a careful and thorough training preparatory to entering college. Rev. Mr. Dinklebach respectfully solicits the Datronare of the citizens of Mayville and vicinity." In other words, it was an old-fashioned boys' academy, which Rev. Gustavus Dinklebach "opened." An old old-fashioned boys' academy, now all out of dale, and laughed to scorn by our new-fangled fellows who turn up their nones at Plato's Dialogues in the original, and claim that the only present and future hope for the world is that it shall be "evolved" out 01 the pattern of the crook of Herbert Spencer's little finger. itev. Gustavus Dinklebach wasn't that sort, bless his sweet, simple old heart. He read his Bible and the Greek trasredies. and believed the salvation of the world de pended on the srolden rule and hie. haee hoe. His religion and his learning were so mixed up that he could hardly tell which wan which at last, and he somehow got it into his queer old brain that one who was familiar with Greek and He brew and Latin lore, by that simple fact perforce was made a gentleman, and that it was henceforth incumbent on him to walk through the world as an example to modern degeneracy, loving lus neighbor as himself, being honest, gentle-mannered, kindly and dignified. Rev. Dinklebach was all that himself, and he knew no more of the ways of the wicked world than if he had been a spotted kitten chasing a spool of thread. He could read the Clouds of Aristophanes in Greek like a novel but he couldn't drive a nail to save his life. He came to Mayville a very learned, highly recommended man. witnatenuer Heart, a Dig Dam neau, tne soul of a little child, and but two pairs of stockings to his name. Mayville took him under its wing. He "opened " his boys' academy and presided over it for twenty-live years. It grew and flourished apace, and nobody in Mayville cheated Rev. Dinklebach out of all the money he got. It just happened so, as exactly the opposite had happened to him every place he hail been before. To this dav many and many abroad-shouldered, bearded man, with his own locks even beginning to frost a little, pauses a minute from the clashing din of the wide world, while he calls to mind the green days at 31ay ville, and remembers Daddy Dinkle and amo, amas, amat, with a smile, a tear and a blessing. Good friends, one and all, here's to the memory of the davs of our youth, which come but once ! Young trien Is, make the most of your youth, for it is glorious, and it comes Due once : Rev. Gustavus Dinklebach was an old baehelor, who loved little children. He called himself a dreary old bachelor, and a part of his valedictory to his biggest boys was always this : " 3Iv dear vounsr friends, don't vou be an old bachelor." I don't know how it was, but'before Rev. Gustavus Dinklebach had been in 3Iay ville a vear, every bod v fell into the habit of calling him Daddy Dinkle, and that although lie was an old bachelor. They called him that to his face, after awhile, and I'm sure they meant no disrespect, for everybody hau a sort of reverence for him, so good and so dignified he was, and so learned withal. Tney may have called him Daddy Dinkle on account of his voice, I don't know. He always spoke in a kind of sort, droning monotone, which wasn't a bit tiresome to listen to, I assure you upon my honor, but was very soothing and comforting, and I've noticed in this world that men who speak in that sort of soft humdrum are always apt to be nicKnameu uacuiy tnis or mat. uut 1 say I don't know why it is. When he first went to Mayville. Daddy Dinkle took up his lodging with a comely young Englishwoman, who had a big, stupid husband and a tnsky little Ameri can-bora baby girl, three months old, not yet named, on account 01 a uulerence of opinion between its father and mother. The mother wanted to name her daughter Frances Mary ; the father, on the other hand, insisted that the child should be called Hannah. Both agreed to leave the question to Daddy Dinkle for arbitration, and Daddy Dinkle named the bright little thing Theodora gift of God. During the year, the comely young Englishwoman's husband died. Daddy Dinkle still lived in the house of the widow. A few months after, the widow herself died, and left Daddy Dinkle alone in the house with a little baby. With her dying breath, the widow had committed the child to his care, and he had promised that never while he lived should the baby-girl be homeless and friendless. He promised all this, -at the same time that he had no more idea what he should do with the child than if she had been an elephant. But he promised, out ef the goodness of his heart. Alter tne iunenu, ne paiu an elderly spinstera stipulated sum for taking care of tne child, went to visit it twice a week, and always carried it a doll-baby ard a package of candy. This was his idea of infantSe femininity. f M Isfortiinpn never come sinfriv. Neither do blessings. Nearly at the game time another piece of drift came floating across the wide sea of humanity into the open arms of Dadd v Dinkle. The niece of drift was a boy. It was the orphan child of an old classmate or Gustavus Dinkle Dacn, also a preacher, who had died of consumption, and the poor father went across the river 01 death with lus eyes looklncr bacfr ward upon this world on account of the little boy he was leaving. JThere wasnt a soul on earth to stand between the boy and the orphan asylum but Daddy Dinkle Daddy Dinkle accepted fate and the two young ones. He took the children, Theo dora and little Ned Wallace, and set up housekeeping with the elderly spinster for nis nousenoiu goauess, her mother goin along to save propriety. These twocluldrcn were Daddy Diukle's warus. That's the bones of my story. Now it's ready to be commenced. Let us string the oones logeiner. A little girl sat on a green brook bank, idlv splashing with her bare feet in the crystal water. A boy stood beside her, en gaged in tie manly amusement of throw ing stones across the brook at a dogwood sapling, some ways off. He was trying to stone the bark off the dogwood. The girl had flashing, bright gray eyes, a wide, res- oiure uiuuiii, wane wem, anil tanned cheeks. She was a healthy, wholesome child, pleasant to look at, but not pretty. Oh! no. The boy, contrariwise, was a model of boyish beauty, like a golden-haired young god, or something of that sort. Everybody who saw the two young ones said what a pity the girl hadn't been tne Doy. " Boys can get on without beauty," said 3Iother Vaughn. "Girls can't. Boys good looks, she hasn't anything. What a pity lor the child. ' The children were quarreling. They were always quarreling. " Will you so home?" savs the sirl. - " Xo, 1 won't," says the boy. "Very well; then I don't go either," says Theo., settling herself more comfortably. " I'm as good as you, and I've as much right to run away as you have." " Girls can't run," says Master Ned, sen-tentiously." Can't!" says Miss Theo., sarcastically. " Didn't I beat you on a dead race the other day, and didn't Daddy Dinkle laugh at you well for it, and tell you I'd beaten you in the conjugations from 'amo' to 4au-dire,' I'd beaten you in the multiplication table, and now you were going to let me beat you running? Prettv boy, you! I wouldn't be a boy if I had to be as stupid as that." " I do know multiplication," says Ned. "How many are twelve times eleven, then?" Twelve times eleven had long been a stumbling-block to little miss, and, mindful of that, she now brought it up as a stunner for the race of boy. " I know, but I won't tell," said Ned, sullenly kicking a pebble into the brook. Theo. clapped her hands and laughed outright. "Oho, Master Ned! You know it, do you? If you can tell me how much twelve time eleven are, I will write your next Latin exercise for you." " Gammon," said Ned, giving the pebble a vicious kick. " I tell vou what, Missy, there's one thing a girl can't do. She can't be a sailor and go around the world, and that's what I'm going to do. I'd rather be a bailor than know how much ninety-nine times twelve is. Now I guess I've got 3'ou." " But you can't conjugate amo to save j-our life," said Theo., triumphantly. A warm, bright room. A young lady, with brilliant grej' eyes, a hrm mouth, dazzling white teeth and bright pink cheeks," sat on one side of the cheerful tire ; opposite her sat a slender, elegantly handsome young man, graceful as a picture, with curling black hair, and eyes that young women of sixteen adored because they were so naughty, roving, brigandish wickitl black eyes they were. People still said what a pity the boy wasn't the girl. Just opposite the bright fire, halfway between these two, an oldish man reclined in an easy chair. He had a big, bald head, and the expression of face of a baby. The young lady was Theodora, the young man was Ned Wallace, and the bald-headed man with the baby-face was Daddy Dinkle. It was Daddy Dinkle and his wards. Daddy Dinkle was lecturing them in his niil'd monotones. " My children, liberal lerrning will revolutionize the woi Id. The wisdom of the ancients, yoked with the inventive genius of the modern age, will draw the car of progress steadily onward, overturning in its tracks the barbarism of the past and the wickedness 01 the present. I have infinite faith in the ultimate elevation of the whole human race through the power ot liberal learning. I believe that the golden dream of the promised time is yet coming true in this world, when men and u omen shall be' gentle-mannered and honest, when no man will have need to ask, who is my neighbor and whoareiny brethren ? but every man shall be every man's brother. To the end of hastening this promised time, I have given my humble life and labors, refusing the emoluments which have more than once been offered me. Mine was a nobler task than to heap up money.' As my favorite Virgil so beautifully put it Majua opus ?noveo. " To this work, my dear children, looking forward with joy to the day when your two bright young intellects would take the grand task oft' my feeble old hands, I have trained vou. It has been the hone and dream of my later years, that you two children would one day take my school and continue it, training the future man, as I have tried to do, to read the classic and love God and his neighbor. Theo., my firl, I couldn't teach you embroidery, but taught you Latin. It is my belief that you can read Lathi with any professor in these loose and careless times. 1 couldn't teach you to make wax flowers, but I taught you liberal learning along with my boys, and I have discovered with joy that your inclinations and mine ran together, and you were ever the brightest pupil 1 bad. "But it is not good for man to be alone. I have been a dreary old bachelor through my life ; why, one now in her grave alone knows. De mortuia nil nisi bonum. We will not speak of that. But I, a dreary old bachelor, testify that a solitary life is not a good or a pleasant life. God never meant people to be old maids or old bachelors. My more than children, my two friends, who have made life less lonely for me, if, besides continuing my school for me, j-ou could find it in your hearts to walk through life together I tell you, next to my hope and faith that the promised time will come, it haf been my fondest earthly hope that before my eyes close on this world, they will look upon you two as husband and wife. Believe me, I know you better than you know yourselves, and no other man or woman can ever be to either of you what you can be to each other." He spoke with more than his usual mild energy as he concluded. Tbe girl blushed slightly, and cast down her eyes. The young man looked up first, with a flash ot his brigandish, wicked black eyes, at the placid face of Daddy Dinkle, and then, with another flash into the fire, he made an impatient movement of his arm, happily unnoticed by the peaceful old man, but by no means lost on the sensitive fciri. "Good night, my ch'ddren," said the gentle old man. " Think - about what I StfoVV . Then the old-fashioned old gentleman took ' his old-fashioned candlestick and trudged off to bed. The moment the doqr was softly closed behind him, Edward Wallace sprang to his feet with a look of extreme vexation. " Daddv Dinkle is a doosid old Don Quixote," he said. " What sort of a wea pon is a Greek root to fight the world with? I never said the conjugations in mv life that I didn't eret 'em tangled, and I don't know what the optatfve mood means to this day. And even if I had all the tarnation old rubbish at my finger-end, what use would it be to me? If the old gentleman had only seen fit to teach me botanv and anatomy." " I like Daddv Dinkle's way best," said Theo. 44 Oh, yes, it's well enough for girls to sit at home and learn rubbish. They take no Dart in the stirring, active life of the world. For them there are no worlds to conquer and measure, no boundless acres of marsh and forest to wrest from the hand of nature and make habitations for man: no secrets of the ages to drag into light, and force them to disclose the origin of the race and ot the world. Oh : my spirit quivers within me when I think ot it. and I long to be gone. It'll do for wo men to sit by the fire and drone over antiquated lore ; a more glorious career awaits a man the immeasurable field of action." Theo. tapped on the floor with her toes, and looked into the fire, but said nothing. The young man's eyes rested on her for a moment, and a look of slight pain mingled with annoyance came over his handsome face. He paced the floor for two or three minutes, as if he didn't know what to say next, and then, as if he had made up his mind, he stopped short and began : " I know you like me, Theo. hang it ! all the girls do, but I can't help it. 1 wish they wouldn't. I don't care for girls. I mean to spend my days in making explorations in unknown lands. That's the only life for me. Theo., I'm ashamed as a beast to mention it, but Billy Ray is dying for you. Billy's a blessed sight better fellow than I am." The foolish, handsome boy didn't know what he was saying, didn't know much ot the nature of girls, or he never would have blurted out that he knew Theo. had laid her silly, romantic girl's heart at his feet, and that he had no use for the gentle gift. Is was a brutal speech to make, and no girl alive would ever have forgiven him for it, especially when he went so far as to suggest the transfer of her maiden affections to somebody else. But Edward Wallace didn't know any better. He had no idea in his blessed innocence of the storm he was raising. Theo. stopped tapping with her feet, and sat like a stone woman. " Why don't you say something, Theo.?' She sprang up with a white face, and her ej'cs blazing. She stamped on the floor passionately. ".Ned Wallace, don't you ever speak to me again as long as vou live." He started in dismay. " I mean every word of it. If I live till I am ft hundred years old, I'll never forget nor forgive what you said to me just now. To tell me to my face that you know I am in love with you, and if it's just as convenient, you wish I'd make it somebody else. Oh, good God, it's too much !" She covered her face with her hands, her cheeks flaming with anger and bitter hu miliation. Edward Wallace made the sud den and uncomfortable discovery that he had hopelessly put his foot in it. He knew of old something of the temper he had aroused, and he stood appalled. " Iheodora," said he, with alaint sound of emotion in his voice, "you and I have been good chums all our lives. Once, when you were a little girl, I remember 3rou had a pet kitten which you liked verv much. One day you caught that kitten killing some young birds. You had liked her 1 Hitter than anything else in the world, yet vou took the pretty kitten and strangled her with your own hands, and from that day to this you have never alio wed another cat in the house. Arc you going to turn away from me to-night for good and all ?" " Yes," answered Theo., speaking very slowly, " for good and all. I can't get over things like other people. I don't want to. Alter to-night 1 shall never speak to 3rou again until l inrgive you, and that wilt never be on earth." "Then good -by,Theodora," answered he, speaking, unlike himself, very rapidly. I'm more sorry than 1 can tell that 1 ve offended you. Always remember that when you think of me, if you ever do. It you don't find me here in the morning) you will know why." So he turned and went away. I neodora covered her face with her hands, and burst into passionate tears the woman's weak refuge of tears. ext morning at breakfast Theo. came into the dining-room, and Daddy Dinkle handed her a note, and said : " Kead this to me, Theo. 1 found it on my plate just now." It was from Edward, and it said : Dcah Father Dinklbach I've started to Brazil. I could not do as you wanted. I know how ungrateful it seems, too, and 1 wish I could p'ease you, but I cannot. Forgive and forget me, if you can, and may tiod bless you and Theo. tDWARD WALLACE. Daddy Dinkle leaned his head on his tnds and groaned. It was a cruel blow. and it stunned him. A dim mist came over his eyes for a moment. When he looked up Theo. was crying in the corner. Poor girl ! She had learned to conjugate amo far too well. Daddy Dinkle looked at her. Perhaps it was "liberal learning" whieh made his intuitions so fine and quick. In that moment he looked down through the past like a vision, and his own blighted youth rose before him like a sorrowful host, lie went over to l heo. and laid has and gently on her head. " Theo., my girl, don't cry," he said. " I have no patience with crying women. Leave crying to babies, where it properly belongs. Please God, you and I have many brave days' work before us, my child. Together we will tread the glorious paths of learning. We will climb yet higher heights, my daughter, and you shall lead and I will follow. We will wait for the promised time together. In the pursuit of liberal learning there is perpetual triumph, unalloyed by a single pang, the splendid triumph of knowing and understanding. Knowledge places man on a level with the angels. There are joy, consolation and repose. I turned there for comfort, a long time ago, and it has never failed me. Theodora, daughter, gift of God to a lonely old man, come !" " I will, father." So two went out to work, where it was to have been three. They never mentioned the wanderer, never heard from him. The old man and the girl shared their studies together. At length an attack of sickness came upon Daddy Dinkle, and weakened him so that he was never quite the same again. After that Theo. heard part of the boys' lessons. "Liberal learning" brought her Joy and consolation indeed. She seemed quite happy, after a little time. Her eye was bright as a bird's, and her voice as sweet, hopeful and cheery. Year after year she studied with the old man, and year after year, she took more and more of the boys' lessons in her own hands. They called her the "girl-professor." and she laughed and went on in her own sunny, spirited, ambitious way, a steady, inspiration to her boys and" the old man. now beginning to be a little childish, and losing his eyesight a little. But her hair turned gray when she was nine teen rears old. A lover or two crossed her quiet life, as the years went on." That -was tbe only time her bright, sunny spirit ever seemed disturbed. - Her- soft, pink cheeks, had turned very pale, and she seemed faint and breathless for a moment, and then she had said mildly and firmly that her life was devoted to the old .Professor and the boys. ne never looned tor. or indeed never wished for, any other life than her present one. ao the flying years sail went on, and Theodora lived as much shut out of the world as if she and the old Professor and the boys ha been cast away on a green island in mid-ocean. A lnof fVtAM An tM A m OAWnAitrvii 1 1ni when Daddy Dinkle found himself ia total darkness. His worn-out eyes had failed him completely, except for tears, dear. stricken old man. Those rained down from his poor old eyes freely euough, but tears could not bring back the lost light ot day. And now Theodora took the o d Professor's tasks all on her brave two shoulders, and the Academy, for the culti vation of his liberal learning, flourished as hardly ever before. It was still carried on in Daddy Dinkle's name, but almost the only thing he did was to be led to his old- time chair in the morning, where he spread out his trembling hands softly and repeat ed the opening prayer, which he had not missed for twenty years, except during his illness. The Academy boys looked up to Theodora with perfect adoration. She was so wise, they thought, and learned, and yet so young and merry in her heart, and she could actually understand boys' games. The most unruly pupil she ever had sur rendered unconditionally when iheodora beat him playing checkers. She can play checkers," he said, in amazement.. " She is the first woman I ever saw in my life who could play checkers."Daddy Dinkle rubbed his hands with glee, and said : "II planned out a work for three people. and this girl does it all herself, better than three could have done." Still the wing-footed years glided on. and the young woman with gray hair kept 1 L - , 1 J! J 1 V , , uer scuooi, auu uiu uer quiet wont aim lived her quiet life bravely and well, until one day she found herself thirty years old. and Edward Wallace had been gone twelve years. Mie tied a riDDon in ner hair that day and looked in the glass and saw herself, a woman never handsome, and no longer very young. Not young in years, that is to say. In heart and spirit she was younger than most girls at eighteen. I suppose being so much with boys had made her so. She looked in the glass that day, and saw a woman with gray nair, ;oft fun ciiecKS auu ungiiL, ppiriu:u eyes, onv ooked happy and peaceful, as she smiled at her gray hair in the glass. She was happy and peacclul quite, quite happy. She still thought of Ned Wallace. I know that in her silent heart she thought of him fifty times a day, but thoughts of him no longer brought the bitter remembrances of old. All the burning pain and humili ation had passed away, and the lost love had become only a Deautilul memory, so, on her thirtieth birthday, she smiled at her nrrntr VinSr nnrl irpnt pYtrvrilxr ilnwn tn inin her boys. Daddy Dinkle's mind seemed failing him a little that year, lie was not always so cheerful and hopeful as formerly. He used to have fits of deep gloom sometimes strange in this sunny-hearted old man. One day he 6aid to Theo. : " l am cross and old, I heo., and the promised time isn't half as near at hand as it used to be. I wish Edward Wallace would come home." At length the gentle old man fell sick. He seemed to be slowly declining, and once when Theo. sat beside him he said : " Theodora, daughter, 1 think the prom ised time isn't so far off after all. I think I shall find it where I am going. The friends of my youth have all found it already. We love the next world better than this when our dear ones die, one by one, and we have a hope of meeting them there. I wish Edward Wallace would come home. Theo. went to Norton, one day, in the railway train. As she returned she observed a stranger sitting directly opposite her. He was looking at her with a gleaming, intense look. That was how she hap pened to see him. He was a large man, with heavy, dark beard, bronzed cheeks and eyes. Ah! Theodora's face turned white. She set her teeth together, drew a deep, shuddering breath, and looked out the window. The man's face turned pale, too, pale to his very brow, and he leaned his head suddenly lorward, as u dizzy. He tore the back of an old letter and scribbled a question on it. He touched Theo dora on the shoulder and gave it to her, looking steadily at her with his bright, intense eves. People thought she had dropped a letter and he had picked it up for tier. She read the question, looked full into the expectant face, with its bright, in tense eyes, and her lace turned wniter man before. She looked full into the bright eyes and deliberately shook her head. The stranger sat quietly down, i ne letter did not belong to her after all. The tram was crossing a railway bridge, stilted upon trestlework, half disjointed, hastily thrown together, and worm-eaten in some places. It was a fashionable American railway bridge. It seemed fearfully shaky to the stranger with the bright eyes and brown cheeks. A moment later every soul on that train would have thought the same thing, if he had any time for thought, which he hadn't. " There was a sudden noise ot splintering timbers. The bridge was going down beneath the weigh? of the train. It was a very high bridge. There was a deep ravine under it, full of dry, jagged rocks and fallen trees. The train was tilt ing over toward the side where Theo. sat. She had time to see that much. It was a nice situation. Theo. glanced wildly around for a moment, and then closed her eyes. Something caught her in a grasp like steel and whirled her madly around. She thought the car was turning over. An awful crash, which will ring forever in the ears of those who heard it, like the crack of doom. Wild shrieks of agony, appalling, fearful death-groans, insane screams of frenzy, mingled with the hissing of steam, and the sound of women screeching in that idiotic way which tries men's souls. Jr ivc persons Kineo outngnt, a little child mangled out of the shape of humanity, three more persons fatally wounded and ten more or less severely injured. They were all ready for the whitewashing committee. Oh ! yes, my friends ! Grand work for the whitewashing committee I Edward Wallace had caught Theo. in his arms just as the bridge went down. It was his last act 01 consciousness ior uayo. jj had hurled her away from the window, and turned so that he was next the side where she sat. - An old tree stump came bumping into the window. It struck him on the shoulder. As Theo. had been, it would have struck her head. She escaped with some broken glass cuts and a black and blue bruise on her arm. He had saved her life. His shoulder was dislocated, a rib or- two broken, and he was badly stunned and bruised about the head. That was all. - We are nearing the end of our story. " They took the poor, bruised ceeature home to Daddy Dinkle's own house. Theo. gave her school in charge of some of the older boys. "She told Daddy Dinkle that a stranger bad stved her lifts at the frisk of his own ; that he was sorely wound ed, perhaps unto death, and she had brought him home to be eared for. And she grew white with watching and sorrow... . -. . But one day Daddy Dinkle, through the open door, heard a voice faintly speaking in the next room. He had not walked without help for a month, yet he sprang upon his feet, quivering with excitement. " Theo.. you have lied to me ; you who never told me a falsehood before. It is no stranger I hear in there. It is my well-be loved son, who was dead and is alive again. iaKe me to mm." And he fell upon his neck and kissed him, and they wept together the weak old man and the weak young man. But Daddy Dinkle took to bis Ded next day, and did not leave it. A week later, when Edward Wallace, feeble yet, and no more man ame to wane, went to his bedside to take his blessing and bid him farewell, he clung to the tall man and wept. . "My son," he aried, "you will not leave me again! Alone in my helpless blindness I nave prayed daily and nightly tuai x iuigut not uepart uus me tiu i nearo your voice. You were a spirited lad, full of life, and wayward, sometimes, but I always loved you as the apple of my eye. Next to one other, it was tne crudest disappointment of my life when vou went away, on i my son, my boy I xou will not leave again ? You will stay with the loousn oiu man mi ne dies r " He reached out in his blindness and caught him, and clung to him with his trembling hands. Theodora sat beside his hQa. She turned her head away and wiped a tear from her eyes. "Father," at length Edward Wallace said, "how can I stay.? I have accom plished the career which was the dream of my boyhood. I have sailed the seas from Northern icebergs to the Southern Ocean. I have prospected for gold in Australia. and helped build a telegraph through a country where the foot of civilized man never trod before. I have climbed Mount Blanc, and blistered my feet in the sand under the equator. I nave sailed around the globe, and done all that I hoped for in my youth, only to find at last that Theo dora is more to mc than anatomy and botany ; more than travel and adventure ; more than all the world besides. Father, I have come five thousand miles to ask Theodora once in her life to forgive, and she will not. U she would bid me stay, father " The old man eroped honelesslv over the quilt with one hand. " X heo., give me your hand. 1 cannot find it myself," said the old man. She reached out. her hand, cold and trembling, and he to k it in his weak rrrocn linlliii v it tVnta lii Ann lor? onrl k1?!' JlVlUlll IV tUU4 MiR V1JV MIU HUM i Edward's hand in the other. He drew them feebly together, and laid the hand of Theo. in the hand of Edward. " My children, it is the last wish of the old man. Theo., my girl, shall it not be so?" She glanced at tha face of Edward Wal lace. He was looking at her with his beautiful eyes, all moist and tender, offering her once more, and for the last time, his heart, begging her to take the gift the neart oi a brave, strong, loving, eternally true man hers forever and ever. Such a love is God's blessed gift to woman. The world seemed turned around to her, and she closed her eyes dizzily. Iiaddy Dinkle listened painmily. "Theo.?" he said. " Yes, father, it shall be so." He smiled a pleasant, child-like smile, nodded his head faintly to show that he understood, and turned his blind eyes a little toward the light. Then his mind seemed to wander slightly. He thought he was back in school with his boys. 44 Turn to book fourth," he said, 4line Ckl. Vixi. et ouein ilederat eursum fortuna peregi I have lived and accomplished the race which late designed, ne loosened his hold on Theo.'s hand. and Edward Wallace closed his own fingers tighly over it and held it fast. Daddy Dinkle seemed to have fallen into a light slumber. His face was as beautiful and serene as the face of an infant in a happy dream. The old man was dead. Cincinnati Commercial. E W Canse of Mississippi Overflows. At a recent meeting of the Chicago Academy ot Science, ex-uovernor cross of that city read an elaborate paper on the subject of the Mississippi inundations, in which he argued that the overflows which are now devastating so large a portion of the finest cotton districts of Mississippi, Arkansas and Louisiana, and nearly all the choice susrar resrion of the latter State, find their explanation not in a larger volume of water than usual poured into the Lower Mississippi from its tributaries, but in the tact that the Ded oi tne river is grad ually rising, thus luting up its waters to a higher level, and causing them to flow over the banks and levees which once con fined them. In support of this view he declared that he had conversed with many intelligent and observant boatmen in St. Louis, who confidently averred that the bed of the river is gradually rising irom the deposit of sediment, just as the river Po, in Italy, whose overflows are more freauent and destructive than formerly, is lifting its bed from the same eause. This view of a very interesting subject is strengthened by circumstances attending the recent overflow. It is a noteworthy fact that this recent overflow was not caused nor accompanied by any unusual rise either in the Missouri or Upper Missis- at and below Cairo, chiefly from the Ohio Cumberland, Tennessee, White, Arkansas, and Red rivers ; and the flood in the Ohio lacked several feet of being as high as for mer years have witnessed. Had the great streams above Cairo, the Missouri and its tributaries, and the Upper Mississippi, with its affluents, participated in the rise, the lower river would have been raised several feet higher than it was a height that would have carried it probably, over nearly all the levees, and caused the inundation of all the lowlands bordering on it. That so great and destructive an overflow as that which took place should come from the comparatively limited volumes of water poured Into the river at and below Cairo, seems to suggest a decreased capacity of the river channel to contain its waters, owing to the elevation of the bed. If this theory be correct, some very interesting questions present themselves : How long is the process to go on ? What will be its ultimate effects? If the levees on its bank are to be built higher as its bed is raised, to secure the country from inundation, there will come a time when the mighty river will flow to the sea like an aqueduct, through channels lifted up above the plain. But there is a limit to the work of raising the levees; the higher they are built the weaker they become, and in a great flood, in which all the upper rivers shall participate, the levees would be carried away, and the released water would submerge the low regions in a far more destructive deluge than any we have yet wituessed. St. Louis Republican. . .- Chamfagsk Cake. 1 egg. 1 UP. sugar. J cupful of butter, f teaspoonful of soda, i teaspoonful ofcnni-tartar, 2 tabJe-spoonfuls oYsweet milk. 2 cupfuls of flour; to be seasoned with nutmeg. Geobgk Wrxso! of Adrian. Mich., has a colt three years old that prefers tobacco to oats, and exhibits great distress if it is not supplied every day with a certain quantity of fine-cut or plug. , . .PU9GE3T FAllAGllAPES. Host kinds of roots and barks are now used as medicines, except the cube root and the bark of a dog. , . . " A MATTXK-OF-FACT old gentleman thinks i t must be a very small base-ball that can be caught on a fly. . " A RKvoLvraa fragment of the paleozoic age collects no cryptogamous vegetation' is a new translation of a popular proverb. . It -is suggested that General Butler would make a good stage manager, because he always has a cast in his eye. . - . Mrs. Partikgton moved this spring to a house on the railroad, and she likes it very much. " It is so pleasant and sociable," she says, 44 when Ike is off, to see the cars forty times a day pass pro and con be fore the windows." ' - , A Kax cannot wait for his dinner with out losing his temper, bnt see with what angelic sweetness a woman bears the trial I Has the woman more patience ? - Not a bit only she has lunched, and the man has not. . . " Whilb a couple of women were discuss ing, the other day, the merits of a certain physician, one of them asked the other what kind of a doctor it was. "Sure, I . dunno," was the reply, " but I think it's an alpaca doctor they call him.' Wednesday afternoon a Brunswick man took a buckeye away from his boy, who was carrvinsr it for, "luck." and nunc it contemptuously out into the street. Ihen he went into tbe house and said : " Wife, it's the dark o' tne moon now let's plant them taters." A friend at our elbow says he thinks it just as reprehensible for women to get tin-h hv loiino- oa fnm man tn oof- tlfrVlt iw ''b aa v auvu& w m v fw O J whisky. Both injure the system. Well, it's none of our particular business any way. Men generally get tight cause its pleasant, and women get . tight corsets nice. Ohio State Journal. A Few years ago a hungry crowd sat down at the well-spread supper-table of a sound-steamer upon which one of the dishes contained a trout of moderate size. A serious-looking individual drew this dish toward him, saying, apologetically, "This is a fast-day with me." His next neighbor, an Irish gentleman, immediately inserted his forkInto the fish and transferred it to his own plate, remarking: "Sir, do you suppose nobody has a sow! to be saved but yourself?'. If there is one thing more than any other that will crush all the best impulses in a man's breast, that will drive all beauty from his mind, that will fill him with a de moniac desire to dabble his hands in nu-man sore and fling it around, as the laugh ing child sports with bunches of blood-red grapes it is to struggle through the heat of the sun. the dust of the street, the ri bald jeers of the heartless crowd, in order tn juiIaIi a Awttnltt f-ntn . Sk sfnlr tMTltln(P and exhausted upon the seat of the ca boose-car, and gradually regain consciousness while tne train switches and jams about the depot for two hours. A Moving Mishap. Mr. Drumme is a commercial traveler. and is away from home a good deal, and besides that he is so very mucn apsorrjeo in his business that his vt ife never expects any assistance from him in tbe management of household matters. When Mrs. Drumme determined to move she communicated her intention to her spouse,, and told him that she intended to go about it during his next period of rest from his journeying, and would depart from her usual custom uy asKuig nun w a.i Drumme declared his readiness, and was particular to note the date of his intended Hitting in his memorandum dook. lie then went to the store, packed his sample cases, learned two or three new funny stories to tell his customers, ana started out and was gone three weeks, scouting in Illinois and Kentucky. He returned on one of the late night trains and started home, thinking he would have a week's rest before the moving process began. He let himself in with a latch-key, and the first thing he noticed was the hollow sound of his heel on the hall floor. He proceeded, and on ' entering the sitting-room stumbled and fell into the midst of two or three shrieking women and babies, and before he could rise and explain, he fell a bed-slat collide with his head several times in quick succession before he lost consciousness. When he "came to," a large man had him in his arms, and a woman was holding a light and pouring water on his head. The man was saying : Bless my soul ! I hope he ain't lulled I It's Mr. Drumme!" The explanation Drumme's wife gave him was that the new house being ready a week earlier than was expected, she naa moved, but he failed to get the letterap-nrisina- him of the fact. As the gentle man who took the house bought the night-latch and door-bell, she did not remove them, and thus Mr. Drumme got into the house and tumbled right among tbe sleeping family, who were camping in thedining-room the first night ot their residence inhis late domicile. Evantvillc Journal. Huckleberries and Milk. Ten of us boys and girls go out over the hill, and come back with twenty quarts of huckleberries. We make our hasty ablutions at the well, wipe on a coarse towel, comb back our hair, and gather round a table where is a pan of milk and great loaves of bread and our berries washed and ice-cold. We crumb the bread, and mix the berries, and pour the milk, and put. great spoonfuls of the mixture into our mouths, and are very healthy and very fPIo not know that this life has on the whole any higher happiness than huckleberries and muk, eaten with the right sort of boys and girls. Pass on a few years, and somewhere, in a long, high, pillared, gilded, and frescoed eating and drinking, laughing and talking and enjoying themselves prodigiously ; Hut lovtnrv nn in Btrtn fnr rhpmselvns head aches to-morrow and uncertain appetites iur weens vu cuiuc ' With one consent we say that these men are gluttonous and bibulous. They are having a good time; they are enjoying each other's company; but their sapper costs too much; their appetites are too much stimulated; the wines reflavor-ous; the; various dishes are too highly 8eKewhere between these tenboysand girls rejoicing over huckleberries and milk, and those ten city lawyers and busi-nessmen rejoicing over a Delmonioo sup- i. lino at. mhich thi virtne of eatmsr . and drinking and giving -thanks lapsed jni a tne vice ui iuaiJuvaTura-w"s ,1JAt,!n In itTMfla ThPV H'tltt kttD Oil ' one side of the line are temperate and vir tuous. - . a nose wno pass i are intemperate and vicious. Thomat K. Buchcr. '-m.1 ' ' ' ' ' ' ' Y . t r .XavoH. Tnrl "hf.ntr - asked " to take a drink ' drtdlned, butsaid, if no objections were marie, he would hike a loaf of bread for his. The party wf a bakery, the treater oouant "-""V"-: of bread, had it done up. and hiJWa took it home. The loaf was afterwards sent to a needy family. - .J